


Fit

by Anonymous



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, pining over your best friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 06:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21095000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Takashi is standing in the doorway, halogen lighting melting into the sheen of sweat on his torso, making him sort of glow.Keith's gaze travels up Takashi's body to his face, lingering on the gentle curve of lips, flickering up to be caught and held in Takashi's eyes."Saw your light on," Takashi says at last. "Thought I'd drop in."





	Fit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatScottishShipper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatScottishShipper/gifts).

Keith stares at the television. Five hundred channels and nothing to watch, and he hates that; he knows it's a cliché, and that makes him hate it even more. He clicks it off, sets the remote down on the arm of the sofa, and continues to stare at the television. Forlornly, he rests his head against the sofa’s arm. The top of his head bumps the remote control; he feels it brush back and forth once against his hair before it clatters to the floor and skitters across the floorboards. Keith raises his head to regard it: reaches for it, but even stretching it's too far away.

A knock at the door interrupts his meditation on the inadequacy of his mutant powers, the stubborn refusal of the cosmos to bring the remote to him through the force of his own mind and desire.

Keith glances at the door. Stares at it a moment.

Perversely, the door declines his invitation to open.

With a sigh, Keith swings his sock-shod feet onto the floor, wraps the light throw blanket around him as he stands, and pads over to the door. He closes one eye and puts the other to the peephole: finds himself winking behind the closed door at Takashi.

Winking, actually, at Takashi's eye. Which is flush up against the peephole from the other side. Too close to see, almost; Keith knows more than sees that it’s Takashi.

He undoes the chain, slides back the deadbolt with an audible click, turns the knob to crack the door open, and pads back to the sofa. He curls up and looks at something better than television:

Takashi is standing in the doorway, halogen lighting melting into the sheen of sweat on his torso, making him sort of glow.

Keith's gaze travels up Takashi's body to his face, lingering on the gentle curve of lips, flickering up to be caught and held in Takashi's eyes.

"Saw your light on," Takashi says at last. "Thought I'd drop in."

"Yeah," Keith says; and wonders why he said anything at all. He can't think of what else to say.

Takashi doesn't say anything, either. He runs his hand through his hair, shaping and reshaping the damp strands absently; Keith follows his hand as it drops down to rest on his waistband, thumb hooking inside, dragging it down a little more, the mandala sun tattoo below his hipbone almost fully revealed.

Takashi is glowing so much, it is almost obscene.

Keith would like to make Takashi's glow completely obscene.

His eyes move back to Takashi's, and he still doesn't know what to say.

Takashi still doesn't know what to say, either. He doesn't need words as he toes off his sandals, which he wears no matter the weather, to come barefoot across the bare floorboards to Keith.

Keith tucks up his feet, knees bent, arms wrapped around them, to make room on the sofa for Takashi.

Takashi looks at the empty space that Keith has just made him on the sofa. Then he looks at Keith.

And smiles.

Keith is caught in Takashi again, Takashi's smile and Takashi's eyes, and Takashi's hands, unwrapping the blanket. Takashi's hands adjusting the curve of Keith's body, not straightening him but shifting him, so that Takashi can fit with Keith on the sofa.

Takashi wraps the blanket around them, wraps himself around Keith. Takashi's foot nudges under the bottom hem of Keith's jeans. Takashi's toes slide up over Keith's socks, try to hook inside them like Takashi's thumb in Takashi's jeans.

Keith closes his eyes, pretends that Takashi's toe is Takashi's thumb, and Keith's sock is Takashi's jeans, and does that make Keith's foot Takashi's cock? Keith isn't sure, but it makes him laugh a little.

"Does that tickle?" Takashi's breath is warm against Keith's ear.

Keith isn't sure whether Takashi wants it to tickle or not; he steels himself for a tickle fight as he answers, "No..."

Takashi's breath is still warm against Keith's ear; Takashi's breathing without speaking, and his toe worms under the elastic of Keith's sock, hooks in and pulls down. Takashi's foot loses its hold a couple of times, slips out and Takashi grunts softly each time, hooks in again. Keeps at it until he's worked Keith's sock down to his ankle, all of Takashi's toes hooked in now to pull Keith's sock over his heel.

Keith's toes wiggle when Takashi's set them free.

Takashi's toes skim over Keith's foot, the callus on the underside of his big toe abrading pleasantly; Keith is on the edge of a purr when Takashi's toes touch his, nudge and wedge between them, fitting their toes together.

It's not a perfect fit; Takashi's feet are bigger, and he's stretching Keith.

But the imperfection, the stretch, the fullness of it all makes Keith purr.

It's Takashi's turn to laugh a little now: he laughs, and licks his laughter onto Keith's purr, caresses Keith's throat with his tongue.

Keith tilts his head back, lets Takashi's tongue elicit more purrs until Keith is moaning, wiggling his toes with and against Takashi's, hooking his fingers into Takashi's waistband like his fingers are Takashi's toes and Takashi's jeans are Keith's sock, and Takashi's cock is something that may not fit perfectly, but it's the imperfection and the stretch and the fullness that Keith wants...


End file.
